


Missed You

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Castiel/Top Sam Winchester, Fluff and Angst, Hugging, Just a little angst, M/M, Sastiel - Freeform, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 19:36:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Cas has been off searching for a way to deal with Michael.Now he’s back, and Sam has missed him, and welcomes him home.





	Missed You

Sam’s wrist deep in soapy water, scrubbing at some stubborn, dried in egg, when Dean sticks his head around the door.

“Hey. Guess who’s back.”

Sam snatches up a tea towel, and dries off his hands, before following his brother through to the map room.

Cas looks...tired. In a way that Sam hasn’t seen him looking in a while, but then these past weeks have been impossibly hard on all of them.

He’s in Jack’s hold right now, the boy squeezing him so tight that Sam’s almost grateful he doesn’t have his powers or Cas would be snapped in two.

They’ve all missed him.

++

Dean orders pizza, and Sam indulges, and they keep things light as they catch up. 

Jack pouts at not being allowed any beer, which makes Cas give them a look as if wondering what excesses they’ve permitted while he’s been gone.

Sam is not getting tangled up in that one, and fields it to his brother with a simple glance.

Dean gives them a nearly convincing _what_ , eyes wide, shoulders almost touching his ears.

Cas pops a can of diet soda and slides it across to his son.

And it’s okay. Yes, they have things to talk about, but right now this is what they need, and it’s what they deserve.

++

Later, when Jack is watching a movie in the den with Dean (Sam knows he’ll have to chase them both to bed in a while, and suspects Cas may have to carry Dean), they clean up and then sit back down in the map room, side by side, as Cas catches him up on what’s happened since he left.

“I found two possible leads on God weapons,” he says, and Sam still can’t believe they’ve come to this.

But Dean’s at stake ( _and the world_ , a voice in his head insists, but that’s the same damn thing) and if saving him means breaking out the heavenly nukes then that’s what it means.

Still, Sam hasn’t missed that Cas came back empty handed.

“One was a fake,” the angel says. “The other was drained.”

Sam slumps in his chair. Luck has never favoured them, and he knows it. Any battle they’ve won, it’s been with their own sweat, blood, resilience.

He just…. It feels like they’re running out of time, here, but when are they not?

This time, somehow, it’s different.

“We’ll find something,” Cas says. “Has Dean said anything?”

Sam shakes his head. No one has mentioned Michael, not in Dean’s presence. Dean is doing a great job of making like it never happened; Sam knows, in reality, it’s just Dean keeping on rather than being in total denial about the freaky stalker archangel who’s out there and might show up any time to take back his _sword_.

But if they have to talk about him, they do it like this: when Dean’s not there, and they still keep their voices low.

“It’ll be alright, Sam,” Cas says, and there’s a fierceness there that gives Sam some comfort. 

Right now, he has his family safe and home and right now, that’s enough.

He stands up and holds out his hand to Cas, and the angel takes it.

++

Sam backs in to the door, slamming it open, his hands too busy with re-familiarising themselves with his angel’s body to waste time on door knobs.

It doesn’t get any better treatment from the inside, either; Sam tries to kick it shut and nearly overbalances them both, before a sudden swell of energy does the job for him, and the door glides smoothly shut.

“Thanks,” he pants, breaking away from Cas’s lips long enough to speak. He turns them, and pins Cas between him and the wall, and looks down at him.

Cas still looks like he could sleep for a week (and given angels actually don’t, that means something). But his cheeks are flushed, and his pupils are wide dark pools and Sam figures it isn’t rest Cas needs.

He kisses him again, and then there’s those clumsy moments where they both try to strip each other at the same time. Somewhere, in that desperate fumble of clothing, they do both end up naked, and then Sam turns Cas again so he’s facing the wall.

Cas braces himself against it, and pushes back, and Sam knows what Cas is telling him. They both enjoy taking it slow, Sam preparing Cas, driving him to the edge.

But right now, neither of them has the patience, and a self-prepping angel is something of a turn on by itself; it kind of makes Sam tingle in a bad, bad way that Cas uses his Grace for this.

Cas draws in a sharp breath, Sam’s name lost somewhere in it, as he’s breached, and neither of them move for that long drawn out moment.

Then Sam does, desperately pushing in, tracing the line of Cas’s shoulder with his lips and his tongue, driven on by the eager, needy sounds he’s drawing from the angel.

He comes quicker than expected, and then he reaches around, and cups Cas, before stroking him rapidly until he spurts messily over the wall.

Sam picks him up, and lays him gently out on the bed, and then climbs in beside him.

They lie quietly like that, Sam stroking Cas’s hair, his back, while Cas is content to just hold him in return.

“Welcome home,” Sam says, finally, and Cas hides his smile against Sam’s skin.


End file.
